


After The Explosion

by WimseyLady



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WimseyLady/pseuds/WimseyLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recovering in the hospital after a mission went bad, Sam and G admit some truths</p>
            </blockquote>





	After The Explosion

**Author's Note:**

> I am terrible at titles!

# After The Explosion

To anyone watching, the man in the visitor’s chair was more intent on the pudding cup in his hand than the patient he had come to see. The black fabric of the sling he was supposed to be wearing was crumpled on his thigh; the cuts and bruises on his face, hands, and visible forearms scabbing and dark. He didn’t look up as the large, dark skinned man moved carefully across the room, the petite nurse hovering at his elbow as if she could do anything to keep him upright if his body faltered. But it was a practiced indifference, and Sam Hanna was not fooled for a second.   
  
“Something on your mind, G?” he probed, barely stifling the sigh as he sank back into the crisp hospital pillows.   
  
The nurse fussed with the sheets, smiled, and left.   
  
Callen feigned innocence, gesturing at his pudding cup with the plastic spoon he had also swiped off Sam’s lunch tray while the linen was being changed. “Nope. Just enjoying my pudding.”   
  
“My pudding.”   
  
“We’re partners,” he objected. “We share.”   
  
Sam quirked a dark eyebrow. “You wanna take your turn in the bed then?”   
  
A joke made Callen’s lips quirk instantly, but was followed too close by the accompanying image, graphic and raw, and the humor died in a fire of desire that made his body flush hot. He stole a second to regroup with a spoonful of pudding, but Sam’s brown eyes were too knowing and lingered too long on the profile Callen deliberately gave him. Eventually the silence began to creep into uncomfortable and Callen forced himself to speak.   
  
“You remembered any more of what happened?” he asked, which he knew was a weak subject change.   
  
They had all been there when the building blew up. Callen saw every agonizing second of the scene every time he closed his eyes. He could have recounted in vivid detail every millisecond of Sam’s experience as the wood and iron structure had lit up from the inside creating balls of flame, chunks of debris, and a shock wave that had sent them all flying. He could have shared the feeling of powerless horror as his partner’s big frame was lifted into the air and flung towards him like a rag doll, and how it had felt being slammed into the ground by that body as he had foolishly tried to break Sam’s fall. He felt that wave of hysterical panic rise up and choke him again as he remembered how lifeless that body had seemed sprawled across his own prone form. How he had thought Sam was dead…  
  
“Some of it.”   
  
Callen blinked in surprise, returning to the present and pushing the emotions back into their dark, locked box. The doctors had warned Sam may never regain those missing memories. Callen would wish he could say the same but for his obsessive need to remember everything about his partner.   
  
“Mostly it’s just a blur of sound and pain,” Sam continued, ruefully. He looked over at his friend. “I remember you running towards me.” He nodded as he spoke, eyeing the other man with the usual mixture of incredulity, humor, and warmth. “Most people run away from an impending explosion, G. You’re the only damn fool who’d do the opposite.”   
  
Callen gave a careless shrug. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”   
  
In truth he had never run so fast or so hard as he had that second after he and Kensi had realized what was about to happen.   
  
“You tried to save my life.”   
  
“I believe I did save your life.”   
  
“We got blown up!”   
  
“We’re alive aren’t we?”   
  
“And that’s down to you, is it?”   
  
“I think I can take some small measure of credit.”   
  
Sam pursed his lips. “I landed on you, G!”   
  
“Exactly!” Callen gestured between them. “My shoulder was dislocated and you are otherwise unmarked.”   
  
“I was in a coma for four days!”   
  
“And are otherwise unmarked,” he reiterated. Then, airily, “You’ll thank me the next time you’re looking at that beautiful face in the mirror.” He made a show of throwing the empty pudding cup into the trash can in a graceful arc from six feet away so that he wouldn’t have to think about what he had just said. So that Sam wouldn’t see the truth in the statement.   
  
Instead the laughter finally broke loose and Sam shook his head with gentle fondness. “I love you.”   
  
“I love you too,” Callen replied softly, honestly.   
  
Sam’s surprise showed clearly on his face and Callen felt the familiar stir of discomfort. He fidgeted with the plastic spoon still in his hand, wondering where the confession had come from; wondering at how easily it had fallen from a mouth trained to reveal anything but the truth. He fought the familiar urge to run but couldn’t help the defensive humor that crept into his tone.   
  
“Come on. Don’t look so surprised.” His voice sounded tight to his own ears. “Getting blown up tends to adjust a person’s perspective.” With great effort he lifted his eyes from the spoon and stared directly into Sam’s softening brown ones. “I love you. Always have.”   
  
“Always will,” Sam murmured.   
  
Whether he was finishing Callen’s thought or making a statement of his own his partner couldn’t say, but it was enough for that moment.   
  



End file.
